"It was as if I had been handed a temporary French passport that night"

I recently found this article I'd written in high school. It captures every emotion I felt that first summer in France.

We burst onto the narrow, deserted street, shrieking and laughing. We were soon joined by every car, motorbike, and moped of this sleepy Provençal village, horns blaring with every ounce of Gallic pride. Strains of "Allez à la finale!" ("Let's go to the final!") soon blended with ours in joyful cacophony as we raced through the dirt streets. When we reached the center of the tiny village, the celebration there must have been no less grandiose than the one occurring at that very moment on Paris' fabled Champs Elysées. Blue, white and red flags streamed out of car windows, TVs blared with the sounds of cheering crowds, and everyone was kissing each other on the cheek. It was as if I had been handed a temporary French passport that night; arm-in-arm with my French friends, we skipped around in pure joy. "We" had made it to the 2006 soccer World Cup final, and I was no less part of the celebrations than any French person. My years of lovingly studying the French language seemed to culminate in this one moment of ecstatic success. Not only had I become fluent, but I was now accepted into this tiny village in the south of France. I was no longer a tourist in a foreign country; France had become my second home. The friendships that I made during the World Cup last to this day, cemented by our first common bond, European soccer. That night, the French had rallied to the World Cup Final, and I was right along with them.

#worldcup2006 #france #provence #friendship #worldcupfinal